


The birdflash au no one asked for

by imjustawriter



Category: Young Justice (Cartoon)
Genre: Assassin AU, Birdflash - Freeform, High School, Idk what i'm doing, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-20
Updated: 2016-10-20
Packaged: 2018-08-23 13:27:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,334
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8329609
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imjustawriter/pseuds/imjustawriter
Summary: When stuck between a rock and a hard place, you do what it takes to survive.





	1. Prologue

In his five years as an assassin in training, Dick Grayson had gone on a lot of undercover missions and had learned to take the strange ones in stride, but-

“High school? Really?”

Slade ignored his apprentice’s whining and continued to sharpen his sword. “It’s an important mission that our employer is willing to pay most generously for.” A small smirk played across his face. “And will be most beneficial to your reputation.”

Dick snorted, doing a back flip off the balance beam he had been practicing on. “I don’t think our employer’s care if the assassin they’re hiring has a high school degree or not. Especially not when I’ve been the best in the business since I was ten. Well, second best” he amended sheepishly after receiving a glare from the man in the corner.

“This is not about your education, or lack thereof.”

“Then what-“

“This is about proving that you can not only do what others can’t, but make hard decisions and put the mission first.”

“And I’ll prove that by taking AP Bio? That’s a little ridiculous, even for the Light. I mean, come on. I kill people for a living. What business could I possibly have at a high school?” At the mercenary’s raised eyebrow Dick’s stomach started sinking. “Oh. You mean my target is . . .”

“A student at the school you’ll be infiltrating? Yes.”

Dick felt like he was going to be sick. “But, they’re just kids! What possible threat could a teenager pose to the Light?”

“A regular one? None. But a super-powered one who works closely with the Justice League? A hell of a lot. Taking out one of their own when in civilian attire will certainly throw the JLA off kilter. They will be thrown into a panic, debating whether it was just a coincidence that that particular child was chosen or if his identity was compromised, if their identities are compromised, and should they continue to let children be among their ranks.They will be so busy fighting among themselves they won’t notice the Light has struck until it’s too late.” Slade’s tone was bored; like he was discussing the weather, not plotting the downfall of the Justice League. “Our benefactors have made it clear that this mission should be our top priority.”

The mercenary in training let out a small sigh. “So I don’t have a choice in whether or not I take this mission?”

“You always have a choice child.” There was a ruthless glint in the older man’s eye, “but unless you’d like to give our friends in Gotham a visit-” Dick started shaking his head fervently.

“No master.” He quickly stood up and excused himself from the room, no doubt to start packing. Deathstroke smirked before returning his attention to his sword. He didn’t look up when Dick poked his head back through the doorway. 

“Umm, I never asked, where exactly is it I’m going?”

“Pack warm Richard, you’re going to Central City.”


	2. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The mission begins

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All my thanks to bluebirdie,Alfred, and CreativityFlow for your comments and to everyone who left Kudos, it really means a lot to me! If anyone has ideas for a new title or something that they want to see happen in the story feel free to message me! I'm always open to ideas! Thanks again to everyone who has supported this story (short as it is), you guys really make it worth it!

“I’m in.”

Dick could all but feel Slade roll his eyes over the communicator. “You had to go to a lady at a desk, tell her your name, and request information that I set up for you; don’t sound so accomplished, Richard.”

“You’re making me go to high school, let me have what fun I can. Besides, that lady was scary.” There was a pause at the other end of the line. No doubt Slade was trying to hold back his exasperation. 

“You’ve lived with an assassin for the last five years.”

“Yeah, but she was mean looking.”

“You can pull countless heists, hack into any government database, and assassinate someone from a mile away; but you consider being able to talk to someone who ‘looks mean’ an accomplishment. You make your master so proud, child.”

“You flatter me.” Dick drawled before turning serious. “The bell is about to ring. I’m going to initiate radio silence. I’ll send nightly reports on my progress and meet you at the rendezvous point when my mission is complete.”

“Copy that. Oh, and Richard” all the teasing from earlier was gone from his voice, replaced by steel. “Don’t fail.” The warnings and implications behind those two words made Dick shiver and straighten his spine a little. 

“Yes Master. Renegade out.” He switched off his communicator and placed it in his backpack. As he walked towards his homeroom he kept a watch out for anyone that fit his target’s description. Tall, sturdy, red head. A runner. 

Dick let out a sigh. He knew the importance of this mission, but that didn’t mean he had to like it. He took no joy in killing. Slade said that that’s what made a good mercenary. ‘Those who enjoy killing should not be in the killing business’ as Wintergreen liked to say. Those who became assassins just to kill were uncontrollable and unpredictable. They became addicted to spilling blood and thus could not be counted on to handle delicate situations. Being a mercenary required knowing who to let live just as much as whom to kill. 

He also had no desire for the money. Sure, one mission could rack up a lot of zeros, especially with the right employer (looking at you, Luther), but he had been raised to believe that money was just an item. It should have very little hold over your heart, if any. It was a lesson that had stuck with him even after five years of assassin training. The one thing his parent’s wouldn’t be ashamed of him over; he never did it for the money.  
No, he was not motivated by bloodlust, or greed, but by something that was far easier to manipulate. He needed protection. That was why he would continue on with this mission. Why he would go against everything his parents taught him, every value he had. Because as bad as Deathstroke and the Light was, they were far better than the Court of Owls. And they would protect him. If he proved to be a loyal, valuable asset, they would protect him from the court of owls. Anything, even being the Light’s bitch, would be better than becoming one of those – things. Briefly he recalled when they had first sent a talon for him. He still had nightmares about it. The scratchy, unused voice. The robes covered with weapons. The emotionless mask that stared into his soul, the claws so sharp they could scratch the oxygen out of the air-  
He was ripped out of his memory when a force knocked into him, causing him to drop his books and stumble.

“Wow, sorry. Are you Ok? That was really stupid of me. Let me help you.” He simply stared at the buffoon who had barreled into him and was now crouching down to help pick up his books.   
The red headed buffoon.

The red headed buffoon who had been moving quite fast.

The red headed buffoon who had moved really fast and was wearing an honest-to-god flash T-shirt.

No way could it be that easy. Dick grinned.

“Don’t worry, dude. It’s all asterous.”

The guy straightened up holding out Dick’s books to him, tilting his head in confusion. “Asterous? What’s that mean? I’m Wally by the way.” 

Dick took his books back and held out his hand. “Robin.” They shook hands. “And aster is the opposite of disaster.”

“I’m not sure that’s how Grammar works. Are you new here? You seem a little young to be in high school.” Each question came right after the other, not giving Dick time to answer.

Dick inwardly chuckled at the boy’s onslaught of question before shrugging. “It should. And yeah, I just transferred here. I’m a bit of a prodigy so I skipped a few grades.” Rule number one of lying: every good lie has a ring of truth to it.

“Dude, that’s so cool! Where’d you transfer from?”

“My house.” At Wally’s confused expression Dick elaborated. “I’ve been homeschooled, but my foster dad decided it was time to let me out into the world and spread my wings.” Pun totally intended, Dick thought. 

“Your foster dad? What happened to your parents?” Dick felt his face darken. Wally held his hands up in an ‘I surrender’ kind of way. “You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”

Dick quickly schooled his expression into one of quiet thanks and shrugged. “It doesn’t really matter, it happened a long time ago. I barely even remember.” Lie. he could never forget the sounds of the ropes snapping, the brief second that seemed to last a thousand years when all he could see was his mother looking at him in terror. Silence that tore through the room, sharp enough to sting. There was a loud thud, the blood spilling out all over ground. And then the screams started. The blood that was reaching for him as he was dragged away from his family by some man from the audience, trying to shield his view of their broken, mangled bodies-

He’s dragged out of his morbid thoughts when a hand lands on his shoulder. It takes all his self-control not to flinch or break the hand. He looks up at Wally’s sympathetic face. There is no pity there, just understanding.  
“Not that it makes much difference, but just so you know, I live with foster parents too. Well, actually they’re my aunt and uncle and they’re trying to adopt me but the papers haven’t gone through yet, so I’m technically still in foster care, but I understand. If you ever need to talk, or not talk, or cry, or hit something; you can come to me cause I kind of understand.” He spoke so fast, it was like the dude didn’t take time to breathe between sentences. 

Dick stared at those green eyes that seemed so honest. Like they honestly cared about how he was, which was absurd, they had just met. But, it made Dick’s stomach start to do little twirls. Nobody had looked at him like that in a long time, like how he felt mattered. When Wally started to fidget, Dick realized he had been staring, and blushed.

“Sorry dude, zoned out for a minute. But yeah, I’d like that.” If Wally’s face splitting grin made Dick grin back and cause a little blush to crawl up his cheeks, well, there was no need to mention it in the report.  
\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------Line Break---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
November 6th  
24:00 hours  
Report 1

Day one undercover has gone exceedingly well. My camouflage of jeans, old sweatshirt, and a ratty backpack has worked splendidly. They believe I am one of them. In every class the teacher made me stand in the front and let the class interrogate me. I did not falter in my cover story even once. My answers must have passed inspection because I have been invited into their ranks to engage in activities such as basketball, video games, and “Hanging out” (further investigation will reveal whether or not this involves actual hanging). Data I uncovered gives me reasonable suspect of the identity of the target. He fits the body description and was wearing a T-shirt with the Flash emblem on it (will investigate further to see if it was just a coincidence or if the target is being tacky). I will continue to gather info on suspect but will also keep my eyes open for others who may fit the description. 

Slade sighed in mild annoyance as he read his apprentice’s report. While he would normally punish the teen about his childish antics, he decided to let it go for a couple reasons. 1) He had accepted the contract with little fuss. Sure, he had been hesitant, sarcastic, and had required a little push, but compared to the tantrums he had thrown in his younger years in his aversion to killing, this was a big improvement. 2) If cracking jokes and being a little shit helped him get through this mission without blowing his cover and kept him mostly obedient, Slade would allow the attitude to continue. For now. And 3) Mission reports were just as boring to read as they were to write. What could he say? The kid kept it interesting.

He eyed the clock on the computer screen before saving the report to a file and pushed his seat out to stand up. The Light should be sending a summons for him any minute now. He snorted, like those fools could effectively “summon” him. He would go, not out of respect for their cause, but for what they were unknowingly accomplishing for him. They thought they were gaining the loyalty of two master assassins. What they didn’t know was that they were setting themselves up to be played. 

Once they got a taste of how Deathstroke and Renegade worked, they would require them for all their missions. After all, once you get a taste of Classic Wine, you can’t go back to cheap red. He knew the thought of a child assassin, who could outwit, out fight, and out distance grown men was appealing to them. Whether for the strategic purposes, the immorality of the thing, or bragging rights to the JLA, that they too, could have children fight for them. For whatever their personal reasons, they wanted him. And when Richard proved himself, when he completed a mission that the founders of the Light themselves couldn’t do; they would have to have him. And they would do whatever it took to keep him. 

That kind of want would put a lot of power into Slade’s hands. He would still take contracts on the side, but a constant benefactor like the Light could be useful in so many ways. So, for now he would play along. Be polite and respectful. And after the Light laid a claim to Richard, the boy would be forced to stay or deal with three groups out to kill him. He would never have to worry about his apprentice running away again.


End file.
